


Dirty Duran Dancing

by Pink_and_Velvet



Series: The World That We Design [4]
Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Dirty Dancing References, F/M, Feelings, Flirting, Kissing, Love at First Sight, M/M, Nerves, Touchy-Feely, dance lessons, marriage plans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24370597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_and_Velvet/pseuds/Pink_and_Velvet
Summary: John really is having thetime of his lifebut it shouldn’t be with the stranger in his arms - should it?First Dance Lesson AU
Relationships: Amanda de Cadenet/John Taylor (Duran Duran), Simon Le Bon/John Taylor (Duran Duran)
Series: The World That We Design [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749097
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Dirty Duran Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I wrote the lads trying to dance. But for this AU, Simon is a pro and he freaking knows how to rock John’s world.
> 
> Inspired by @dreamduran on tumblr, wanting a Dancer AU. Although I had to change it from Roger, the dancer in me knowing that partnership isn’t exactly compatible physically, I hope you enjoy it my love!! 💖💖

_Summer 1992_

“Come in! Aww, don’t worry I won’t bite! Though I will kick, as the routine calls for it. You’re John, right?”

  
John froze, momentarily, before straightening up to slip into the door. His heart was racing a mile a minute and he could’ve sworn he was already sweating. They hadn’t even attempted a twirl, dip or a lift and he was already sweating and cursing himself for it.

“C’mon, you do want to get the full ninety minutes you both paid for, right John?”

“ _Johnny_.” He spat randomly, not knowing why.

“Johnny, okay.”

He shuffled his way over, running a hand over the slick that coated his forehead. Brushing his dark bangs from his face, John engulfed a shaky breath and let it go; it did nothing to bleed the sudden tension that filled his system.

“Set your stuff down on the bench there, by the piano in the corner.”

He had taken one glance at the man, blonde and glimmering in the studio light, and had forgotten everything from his last name, his fiancé’s name, to his wedding date. He was stunned.

“First we’ve gotta get your warmed up.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t want you to pull a muscle or...” the man trailed off, John’s lanky limbs were really on show and he wasn’t too happy with how thin he had gotten.

The man kept talking, John was shifting his weight awkwardly as they stretched. He followed those moves with a dumb struck look painting his confused little face. They twisted and turned, jogged a little, John was encouraged to feel the energetic pulse of the track and to loosen himself up. To breathe deep, in and out, in and out, in and—

“Oh, I just realised! I didn’t even introduce myself to you properly, I’m such a scatter brain at times!”

John was already working himself up for that reveal. 

“Call me Simon, I’ll be your instructor for the session.”

“ _Simon_ ,” he repeated, fumbling over the supposedly easy two syllables. “Simon, I like that name.”

They shook hands, John flushed deeper. There was a small frown on the blonde man’s face, it hurt John to see so up close that he dropped that welcome hand as soon as he made contact.

“Is something wrong?”

Before the contact lingered too long and couldn’t pull itself away.

“No, n-no, I… I uh,” John stammered, looking at his feet, “I’m _fine_.”

“You don’t look _fine_. It’s absolutely normal to be nervous.” Simon waves him off with a smile. “Dancing is a very nerve-wracking thing, be it for an audience of thousands or simply one other man or woman. Just relax, I’m sure that your future wife will love your routine, like she loves you.”

John stiffened, bringing his gaze up in a harsh snap that his neck cracked. “My… my what?”

There was a pause. A raise of an amused blonde eyebrow. “Your _fiancé_?” 

“Oh, oh right. Yeah, yeah her.”

“That’s why you’re here, right?!” Simon laughed, it was long and hearty. “Or are you going to act like you’re getting married and fake the whole ‘fiancé forced me to do this story,’ so you can rub off on me and use my dance talents against me? He mocked, still giggling, “well don’t bother. I’ve seen it all before!”

“Oh no, she did, she really did want me too… yeah, you know.”

“Why don’t you tell me a little about her, whilst I go hunt down your chosen first dance record?” Simon’s voice was now smooth, he was genuinely intrigued by what John had to say.

What John had to say, well, it really wasn’t a lot. He cursed himself for speaking, for staring at Simon’s butt as he hunched over the record crate.   
  


“Her, uh, you know, name’s Amanda.”

John was sure that he was being teased, being driven mad by the those perfectly round and muscled moons that somehow were perfectly framed through the tight black trousers Simon wore. 

“We’re actually already married, last year. She… she, we, found out she was pregnant and uh.”

They clung to his muscled thighs, as John found himself hunching slightly to get a better view of the man before him.

“Figured I’d have to… have to, you know, put a… put a _ring_ on it.”

Simon rose back to standing, clutching the record tight. He flashed it to John who nodded, blushing, realising just how much more real this would seem with an actual soundtrack to back their movements and… intimate moments.

“A small thing, it was hasty in a registry office.” John recalled in distaste. “She didn’t have a dress or nothin’ really.”

“Oh, okay.” Simon nodded, puzzled somewhat. “Now you’re having a reception, celebrating with the family?”

John choked out: “yeah, _reception_ yeah.”

They held gazes for a few intense moments, John swore he could see stars in Simon’s beady blue, no, striking blue gaze. They gleamed like sapphires, precious, holding so many deeper secrets and thoughts. Holding such a love that John could’ve sworn he too felt—

“You have a child?”

John felt that kick hard, how those words had rammed themselves into his gut. 

He choked out “yeah, yeah I do,” turning away to hide his pain.

Sensing the low mood, John was thankful that Simon didn’t try to push it.

“Good choice Johnny,” Simon beamed, changing the subject, beautiful blue eyes roaming all over the vinyl he held. “ _Time Of My Life_. Popular but timeless— pun completely intended!” Simon chuckled at his own accidental pun. “I like how you think.”

“As does Amanda!” John stated, unnecessarily.   
  


“She a Swayze fan?”

“Uh, yeah I ‘spose.”

“Aren't all the ladies though?” Simon stated, cocking his hips and placing his hands at his sides. “They love a man with rhythm, _trust_ me.”

John felt his cheeks heat, eyes a little low beneath the belt and chains hanging from...

  
“I liked him better in _Roadhouse_ though, and I’m a trained ballroom dancer?!”

“And uh, he’ll be surfin’ with… with, shit what’s the guy’s name? The Canadian?”   
  


“Keanu Reeves.”

John shook bodily at that, having no recollection as to why that name meant (or would mean) something much deeper…

“ _Point Break,_ you mean.”

“Oh yeah,” John brushed it off, “that’s out soon.”

John followed Simon’s lead, being guided to the centre of the floor. He spoke firmly yet softly, voicing light commandments and instructing John to reciprocate his movements.

“I heard that Swayze’s role was actually written for Val Kilmer. He was who they had in mind, or something like that. he didn’t want to be a Hollywood heartthrob, can you imagine? _Not_ wanting all those chicks throwing themselves at you, camping out before your hotel room and screaming through your window?”

John shook his head, mulling over how oddly appealing that may have sounded.

“Now _that’s_ a film I would’ve liked to see.” Simon waggled his brows, John pursed his lips. “It’s worth it for Cynthia Rhodes though.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” John answered back a little fast, vaguely recalling the hot blonde chick who really had the body of a firecracker that men like him were supposed to ogle over.

“Kilmer… why do I know that—” John posed, bringing a hand up to rest his chin.

“— _Real Genius?_ The funniest shit ever. Or _Willow?_ ”

“Uh.”

Simon piped up, rolling his eyes, “Gonna take a ride into the Danger Zone?! _Top Gun?_ C’mon, you must’ve seen that dick flick?”

Boy did John love that ‘dick flick’ — as Simon so eloquently and rightfully put it.

“Oh yeah! The hot, gay blonde on the volleyball court!” He pointed out to Simon, pointlessly.

He told himself it was for the planes and all, he’d be lying if he said they didn’t intrigue him but—

“Mighty fine man specimen if you ask me. Take him over Teeny Tom Cruise any day.” Simon babbled, John perked up. John agreed. “Should’ve seen me, Johnny, in ’87. I had the whole frosted tip thing going on!”

“Really?!” John giggled, running his gaze over Simon’s much longer, curled and flowing locks; trying to picture them much shorter, with a slight military edge.

John also acted as though he had no idea, that he didn’t think the actor was incredibly hot and incredibly talented; looking damn like Simon, with those golden strands and dreamy eyes…

“Okay, so,” Simon’s change in tone bought him out of his daze, “the beginning of this number is undoubtedly one of the most special moments of the whole routine. It’s close, it’s personal, full of electricity between you and… oh damn, sorry, what did you say—”

“—Amanda.” John ground out, oddly detached from the moment.  
  


“Amanda, nice name. A special bonding moment between you and your beloved Amanda.” Simon waved him over, now again stood before John.

John was instructed to clutch his waist, he would be playing the part of his leading lady to give John the chance to embrace the male dancer’s role at her back. He had to be poised, sophisticated, exuding confidence and power to support her smaller frame.

John groaned inwardly, there wasn’t a chance in hell that would work. They both knew damn well who wore the trousers in their so called ‘relationship.’

“Just place… no, no, a little lower. Right on the hips, _there_. Right there, hold it. Don’t worry, I won’t _try_ anything!” Simon giggled, practically planting John’s clammy hands very low on his own rigid and cocked out hips. “You sighed the forms and I’m not down for a sexual harassment claim today.”

John chuckled at Simon’s quick wit, then he sighed softly, refraining from digging into Simon’s delectably tan skin too deep and leaving imprints.

“Okay, so you’ve clearly seen _Dirty Dancing_ , you know how the finale number goes.”

“Actually, uh,” John’s mind blanked, he frowned. “Been a while.”

“Alright, a refresher. Let me walk it through for you then, Johnny.”

John listened carefully, following Simon’s arm movements. He kept himself at a safe distance though, he didn’t touch, didn’t press his hips into the lower groove of Simon’s back. Didn’t push himself up to meet his back. John coughed again, running a nervous hand through his hair.

“So she brings her arm up into an arabesque of sorts, nice and high, graceful… and you, Johnny, simply caress her inner arm as she brings it back down to rest before her. You stare intently at her, marvelling over her and her beauty with a real genuine smile. Think you can do that?”

John nodded, eyes on his feet, blushing.

“Alrighty.”

Simon broke free from John’s almost hold for a split second. His long fingers, one had a glistening insignia ring on, gleaming gold, headed to the needle. Simon put it down. John flushed again, as Simon practically slid his way back into his personal bubble.

_**Now I've had the time of my life  
No, I never felt like this before  
Yes I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you.** _

“And arm goes up,” Simon gracefully raised his right arm, coaxing John’s fingertips to caress it before bringing it down slowly. “And turn… Johnny that’s your cue.”

“Huh what?”

John had simply been staring, simply been freaking out as to how close Simon was. Stood before him, making himself be vulnerable and feminine in John’s arms: if John could bring himself to put his arms around Simon and to reel him in the way the number called for.

“Johnny, when Jennifer Warnes jumps in and sings,” Simon coughed, “cause I’ve had the time of…”

John didn’t hear any more. He was lost, enrapt by that strong vocal. Simon’s voice was beautiful, hitting all the accents and would surely help guide John through. 

“ _Wow_.” John bit into his bottom lip, eyes on the floor. “Uh, sorry?”

He didn’t know when Simon had flicked the needle and restarted the track.

They tried again. Simon raised his strong, muscular and tan arm that his sleeveless tank top bared so wonderfully, into a half ara.. ara— whatever the hell position before John. With Simon’s free left hand, he wrapped his lean fingers in John’s own; bringing them up across Simon’s strapping torso to run them straight down his inner arm. The way Johnny did with Baby in the flick, without laughing, without a single fear: igniting undeniable spark after spark.

_**Now I've had the time of my life  
No, I never felt like this before  
Yes I swear it's the truth  
And I owe it all to you.** _

Johnny felt much more like a baby, fumbling with the simple movement and shying away from the body in his arms.

_**Cause I’ve had the time of my life  
And I owe it all to you.** _

They tried it a third time, John didn’t laugh, he forced his feet to route themselves in their grasp as Simon swept his lean body around. He planted John’s sweaty palms in the groove of his lower back; before inhaling a deep breath.

**_I've been waiting for so long_ **

John inhaled one too, not quite knowing why. 

**_Now I've finally found someone to stand by me._ **

Simon let himself go, back arching, limbs loose and relaxed; to drop and circle his body in John’s arms. John was mesmerised, upon this view of Simon. His arms were behind his head, exposing his stomach from underneath his black tank top. Sadly the rotation of Simon’s torso was too short for John to see and admire any traces of a six pack the man likely possessed.

“I know it’s _Dirty_ Dancing and all but you’re probably going to want to keep it PG for the in-laws!” Simon cackled, still in the dip.

**_We saw the writing on the wall  
And we felt this magical fantasy  
Now with passion in our eyes  
There's no way we could disguise it secretly._ **

Bringing his weight back up, stabling his core and making them both central again, they were now face to face. Following Simon’s soft words, little nudges and touches; together they raised his arms up as Simon rotated his head twice, in quick succession, the way Baby did. 

_**So we take each others hand** _

John took Simon’s hand in his own, he revelled in the smooth skin brushing up against his open cuts and callouses from plucking his strings.

**_'Cause we seem to understand the urgency._ **

Before catching a steamy, powerful glance at her Johnny, leaning in to meet his parted…

“Oh my— shit, I’m so sorry!” John shrieked, pulling away from Simon who was obviously a little shocked and appalled at what he had done. “Simon, I, holy shit, I’m _sorry!_ ” John hurriedly wiped at his lips, yet found himself trying to savour the taste.

John had flat out kissed the man, with tongue, nice and deep. That would be a fun one to explain to the wife.

Ignoring Simon’s words, if he indeed was saying anything at all past the initial shock; John stumbling backwards out of his grip. He was mumbling to himself, flushed and full of embarrassment, half heading to the door. His head was spinning. He couldn’t deny how luscious those lips had tasted, whether he had pressed his own into them for a single second, or for thirty. He couldn’t deny how wonderful it had felt, having Simon so close to him. 

“Really am a fool to believe,” John scoffed, high tailing it out of there, “ _he’s_ like the wind.” 

  
  
He would be tearing his hair out, wishing he still had the mullet as it would buy him time, running through the studio on the hunt for his woman and newborn daughter; wondering whether or whether not Simon had begun to kiss him back.


End file.
